Stone Dreaming Woman

by Lael R. Neill

  “Shane and I have been seeing each other, it’s true. But it’s as much a professional as a personal relationship. You see, I have been practicing medicine in Elk Gap, and it’s so rural that I don’t yet know my way around the countryside. He frequently comes for me and helps me attend emergencies. If I continue sharing Doctor MacBride’s medical practice, I will probably stay in Elk Gap. But you understand I do have a professional career, so I have given very little thought to…personal relationships.”

  “I see.” Marie is trying much too hard not to sound too disappointed, Jenny thought. She probably wanted me to say I was panting for Shane to propose so I could make a cozy little nest and start raising my own brood like hers. Well, life does have its disappointments. Jenny gave a twist here and there to the stray strands of curling hair that framed her face.

  “There. I’m finished,” she announced, reaching for her dress. She carefully lowered it to the floor and stepped into it so as not to muss her hair.

  “I will help you with the buttons and the train. There is no need to call Juliette. She is busy with the girls.” Marie did up the line of crystal buttons fastening the back of the gown, and Jenny settled the shoulders and the skirt properly. Then she shook a velvet pouch from one shoe. It contained the best items of her heirloom jewelry: her grandmother’s breathtaking diamond-and-pearl necklace, with matching earrings, bracelet, comb, and ring. The necklace consisted of three strands of matching graduated pearls caught up in scallops by platinum-and-diamond bars. It draped gracefully around a huge central teardrop pearl with a diamond cap. Smaller identical teardrops formed the earrings, and a slightly larger one depended from the diamond-and-platinum bar across the top of the tortoiseshell comb. Marie gasped involuntarily.

  “How exquisite!” she exclaimed, helping Jenny with the clasp. “Are they family heirlooms, then?”

  “Of a sort. My grandfather Weston’s wedding gift to my grandmother. Since Grandfather passed away when I was a still a little child, she gave them to me to wear to my coming-out party.”

  “How lovely of her, to give you something so dear to her.”

  Jenny’s bittersweet thought was otherwise. Her grandparents had been so terribly ill matched that her grandmother had found solace only in her children and her one and only grandchild. She had been all too glad to give up everything that brought her late husband to mind.

  “I loved my grandmother very much. She was a lady to the bone, always poised, always polite, always socially proper, always tactful and charming.” Jenny removed her simple, ivy-patterned, gold-loop earrings, leaving them in a little trinket dish on the vanity table, then tucked the comb into the left side of her hair, where the pearl teardrop peeked from between deep waves.

  “Do you resemble her, then?” Marie asked.

  Jenny shook her head. “No. I look like my mother’s people, except that the Westons all seem to have this sandy, darkish-blond hair. Now I’m ready, but you?”

  “I have only to put my dress on. Juliette did my hair long ago. And a matron like me cannot be too concerned about looking young and lovely anymore. You will be the one who will turn heads.” Marie gave an embarrassed laugh.

  “Oh, no, Madame Shepherd! Don’t say that! You look quite beautiful. I’ve noticed before that some women glow when they are expecting a child.”

  “Marie, please. There must be no formality between us. And yes, you may flatter me any day you wish. Come, then. I will change into my gown, and we will sweep down the stairs in all our glory and overwhelm our men.” Jenny picked up her green, pearl-decorated evening bag, her gloves, and the light wrap, somewhere between a tippet and a shrug, made out of the same diaphanous teal silk as the overskirt of her gown. She thrust her arm through Marie’s, and they glided down the hall in an apparent comradeship Jenny did not feel. She helped Marie with her voluminous pink lawn gown with its mountain of frothy lace around the neck. She thought for an amusing moment that it made Marie look like an enormous birthday cake. Marie, too, took up gloves, reticule, and a wrap, then gave her hair a pat and ushered Jenny out of the room.

  At the top of the stairs, Jenny paused to let Marie precede her. She well knew the dramatic impact of being the coup de grâce. Marie glided into the parlor like a ship under full sail, and both Shane and Bob rose. Then Jenny floated in, a graceful sloop in the wake of a freighter. Shane’s eyes grew round in surprise.

  “Jenny!” he whispered. His tone left no doubt he was awestruck. She watched him with no small amusement as he proceeded to ignore whatever Bob was saying.

  “Well, Shane, don’t you think we should be going?” Bob prompted after a pause. Shane’s eyes flickered from Jenny to his superior officer, then back to the vision in the green dress as though drawn by a lodestone.

  “What…? Oh. Yes. It must be time. Should we walk? It’s close enough.”

  “That’s what I just suggested,” Bob replied, with a grin that made Shane’s cheeks flush. He settled Jenny’s wrap over her shoulders and offered her his arm. She took it with a smile, and felt her fingers pressing his forearm.

  “Jenny, you look so beautiful,” he said quietly.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, the corner of her mouth dimpling. “However, had I a choice of ball gowns, I’d not have picked green. You and I look like Merry Christmas together.”

  “I’ve never seen anything like that gown. And your necklace…”

  “Well, Shane, you are looking at a gown designed specially for me by the House of Genesse, and also Grandmother Weston’s pearls. They were her wedding present from Grandfather.”

  “And you’re with a little backwoods boy like me,” he said with a disbelieving sigh. She gathered her train over her forearm and smiled up at him again, thinking that if she lived to be a hundred she could never be happier than she was at that moment.

  Their destination was the one real mansion in River Bend. Shane had told her it belonged to a twice-over millionaire timber broker named Adrian Beaufort, and it was as elegant as anything she had ever seen, up to and including Parkfield. Liveried servants took the ladies’ token wraps and escorted everyone into the banquet room. As they were seated, Jenny took a quick head count and came up with about sixty couples. She was also very aware that everybody knew everybody else, and everybody surmised who the Governor and his wife were, while nobody knew her. That would lead to a lot of speculation, and Jenny felt impish enough to play it to the hilt.

  Somewhere in the background a small orchestra was playing softly. Ignoring the silly rule that young ladies must only pick at their food, she ate with relish, though she made sure her table manners were precise and correct to the last detail. She carried on a limited conversation with the white-haired gentleman next to her, discovering that he was the Barton of Underwood and Barton, Solicitors, and that he had read and thoroughly enjoyed By the Grace of God, although she did not divulge her connection to the book’s author. And Shane, whose main interest in law school had been criminal law and penology, entangled himself in a debate with the Underwood of Underwood and Barton concerning the death penalty and mandatory sentencing. What Jenny heard impressed her, but after all, Shane had both a law degree and a good mind, and she knew he stayed as up to date in his field as she did in her own. Finally the servers cleared away the last of the meal, and the crowd adjourned to the ballroom. Jenny drew her gloves back on as they walked down the long hall.

  “Shane, I noticed several other Northwest Mounted uniforms. And I did see Paul and Laurence. Are the others from River Bend, then?”

  “Most of them, yes. Some are from the Academy, and some are active duty officers. Like I said, by and large they’re bachelors and they’re here to keep the widows and wallflowers happy. By the time the night’s over you’ll meet them all.” When she had settled her long gloves, he gave her his arm.

  “Remember when you called me a wallflower?” she asked as they walked down the hall.

  He flinched. “That box social is one night I don’t even like to think about. If l
ooks could kill, I wouldn’t even be a bad memory right now.”

  “If I’d known what had happened to you over the previous week, it would have been another thing entirely.”

  “At the time I had no idea you’d even care.”

  “Well, see what you get for underestimating me?” She dimpled at him again. Then she fell silent as they found their place in the Governor’s receiving line. A stream of chatter flowed about them, above which she heard Marie talking to Bob a few places ahead. Jenny first met the large contingent of River Bend officials, then the mayor himself, who in turn introduced her to the Governor and his wife. She favored them both with a brilliant smile and a proper curtsey and watched him fall for her debutante charm. When they were through the line, Shane leaned over to whisper to her.

  “I’ll bet a month’s salary he asks you to dance within the first five dances.” She did not reply, but she looked back at the Governor, a stocky, florid man of about sixty, and his serious, purse-mouthed wife, and was inclined to agree. Governor Georges Marot looked like a man who truly appreciated the ladies.

  They had been rather near the end of the receiving line, so the ball began soon. The Governor and his wife led the first dance, and then, after a polite interval, other couples joined.

  “May I have the pleasure of this dance, Mam’selle?” Shane asked in his abominable Voyageur French. He extended his hand with exaggerated pomp.

  “Certainly, Inspector Adair. I’d be most delighted.” She slipped her right hand through the loop to hold her train out of the way, took his hand, and glided into his arms. Due to her heels, her hand on his shoulder tab was comfortably below her eye level. Hearing Aunt Eleanor’s instruction that a lady always looks at the gentleman with whom she is dancing, she gazed up at him. To her amusement his cheeks held high color, and happiness had painted a pink patch across his forehead. “Then where did you learn to dance so well, clear out in a place like Elk Gap?” she asked after a moment.

  “It wasn’t in Elk Gap. It was at Royal Dominion. I had, ah, a cicerone who guided me through the mazes of polite society. A mentor, if you will, who made a gentleman of me.”

  Jenny grinned wryly. “Oh. That figures, doesn’t it?” She understood all too completely. It did not take a genius to deduce what he meant, especially since he’d once told her his initial intention at college was to become a portrait artist.

  “How about you?” he asked, declining to comment further.

  “Me? I’m an old hand at balls like this. The private girls’ school I went to made certain we were all proper little debutantes before we could even spell the word.” But, Jenny appended silently, I could attend another two or three thousand balls and none of them would be so exciting. I’ve never been escorted by anyone half so handsome as Shane in his incredible dress uniform. With that black hair and fair skin, he wears red so dramatically. She felt invigorated and tingly inside from the touch of his hand, even through two pairs of white gloves. She smiled up at him, and for the moment nothing existed except the music, Shane, and the dancing.

  Bob claimed the next dance, and then Shane’s prediction came true. The Governor himself strode up and bowed sharply. His French was as Québécois as Shane’s.

  “Mademoiselle Weston, before your program is full, would you do me the honor of granting me a dance?” Jenny curtseyed back as he took her hand and led her officiously to the center of the dance floor. There he proceeded to drag her around dramatically, with all the finesse of a draft horse.

  “So, Mademoiselle, your last name is not French, yet you speak like a native. How is that?”

  “I’m from New York, Your Excellency. I studied French all my life, lately under a former Sorbonne professor at the University of Virginia.”

  “Ah, I understand. It is surprising to find an obvious socialite like you in this remote village.”

  She decided to answer the implied question. “I am visiting my uncle for the summer,” she replied, favoring him with a devastating smile.

  “So that is how the rose has been transplanted into this wilderness, eh? I knew when I saw you at dinner that you were no product of River Bend, or even Ontario, for that matter. Such a lovely gown, Mademoiselle. My compliments to your couturier.” He was trying to dance dynamically, fairly hauling her around, in contrast to Shane, whose quiet strength enabled him to float over the dance floor in the same easy way he skated. She smiled up at the older man.

  “Even though I’m American, the gown is Parisian, Your Excellency. It’s a custom design from the House of Genesse.” That was intended to impress, and it evidently did. The man’s graying eyebrows raised for the merest moment.

  “My wife will be most interested. She has wanted a Genesse for years.”

  “Every woman should have at least one, sir.” They chatted politely until he knew an acceptable amount about her background. The music came to a quick finale, and he stepped back and bowed over her hand.

  “I thank you, Mademoiselle. And if I may, your program, please?”

  “Certainly.” She slipped the tasseled cord from her wrist and handed him the program. Every second dance was signed “Adair,” with Shane’s distinctive outsized. pointed capital A. (Every dance, Shane had said, to which Bob replied, Every other dance; don’t be a hog.) There were a few other names, including Bob, Paul and Laurence, and five blank spaces. The Governor added “Marot” to three of them and handed it back to her with a flourish.

  “Inspector Adair must be your beau for the summer, non?”

  “I’d scarcely call him that, sir. He’s a friend of my uncle’s.”

  “Inspector Adair’s reputation precedes him. I have heard of him even in Ottawa. It is stellar officers such as he who will eventually give the Royal Northwest Mounted Police jurisdiction over all of Canada. You choose wisely, Mademoiselle,” he said as he escorted her back to Shane. “Farewell for now, Mademoiselle. I look forward to the pleasure of dancing with you later.” He gave her another courtly bow, released her hand, and retired, all dignity and pomp. Shane raised his eyebrows questioningly.

  “It seems Monsieur Marot is most taken with you, Mademoiselle,” he observed.

  “Overcome with curiosity is more like it,” she replied.

  “Then I believe this is my dance?”

  “Why, Inspector Adair, you’re right! It is indeed your dance!” She smiled and gave him her hand. The orchestra’s next piece was the “Emperor Waltz.” She could not recall having enjoyed any one dance as much as she reveled in the quick, swinging pace of the familiar melody. She felt as light as a feather in Shane’s arms as they whirled around the floor, and neither one realized, until the orchestra was through and the spell broken, that all the rest of the dancers, led by the Governor himself, had cleared the floor to watch them.

  As she came to, there was a smattering of gloved applause, and it surprised them both to find themselves the center of so much attention. That spectacular dance, to the chagrin of many ambitious mothers and sighing girls, established Jenny as the acknowledged queen of the ball.

  When the orchestra came to the end of the program and started playing extra pieces, she found herself mobbed by every eligible gentleman in the place. She danced twice more with Governor Marot, once with Bob, once with Paul, and once with the Mayor of River Bend, while managing to save every other dance for Shane. She noticed, too, that he had succeeded in coaxing a smile from Madame Marot while they danced, and when they returned from the floor she looked almost animated for a moment or so. Then the last dance was announced, and when she looked around for Shane, he was directly behind her. Music wrapped itself gently around them, and she allowed herself to dance quite close to him. At one point she felt his cheek brush her temple.

  “Shane, I don’t want tonight to end,” she murmured. His hand crept a fraction farther around her back.

  “I don’t want this dance to end,” he replied. “It makes me want to do an oil study so I can keep it forever.” But it ended all too soon, and there were rounds of
good nights and farewells to be said. Governor Marot expressed regret that he would not be able to attend any balls in New York so he could have the pleasure of dancing with her again, and the Beauforts cordially invited both her and Shane to call on them any time they were in River Bend. Then they were outside in the pleasantly balmy night. It was past one o’clock, and though Jenny’s spirits were soaring, she was not a night person, and she was deathly tired. She clung to Shane’s arm with both hands, her train gathered over the crook of her elbow.

  “It was a lovely evening. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed a ball quite so much. Thank you for inviting me,” she said at length as they walked. Tactfully Bob and Marie had gone on ahead, allowing Jenny and Shane their privacy.

  “I’m glad you accepted my invitation. Didn’t I say you’d be the belle of the ball? You must have left quite a string of broken hearts behind you tonight.”

  “I only care about one.” She patted the center of his chest. He covered her hand with his.

  “That one’s in fine shape. After all, I’m seeing you home.” They walked in contented silence, while she luxuriated in the feel of her hand about his forearm. They were nearly at Bob and Marie’s home when she stopped abruptly.

  “Oh, bother. I have a rock in my shoe.”

  He swept her up into his arms and carried her toward the smooth river stone wall along the side of Bob’s driveway. She let her arms encircle his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. He made a slow way from the sidewalk and sat down on the wall. She pulled the overskirt of her dress away so she would not risk marring the delicate fabric and slipped from his lap to sit beside him. It took her only a moment to shake the pebble loose. Then she replaced the offending footwear and looked up.